I’ve had the hiccups three times now in the past 24 hours. That’s the way I roll, yo. I’ve also had the same song stuck in my head since last night. I can’t tell you what it is, or it will never go away. Song-that-shall-not-be-named was a constant soundtrack while Jason and I played tennis after work. I think it went away briefly as we watched “True Romance“, a film Jason passionately wanted me to see. It’s a lot like “A Life Less Ordinary“, only with lead actors I’m not attracted to.
I’m all stressed out. Seriously. Trying to make my life ideal takes a lot of effort. I’d like to write a whiny white-middle-class-girl blues song about it, but I don’t know what rhymes with
I can’t consolidate my loans because they’re either private, or not enough to count.
I have a cat I don’t want, but no one to take her.
I’m going to lose my insurance if I go on vacation.
I have litigation hanging over my head from a rightly broken lease.
The tag in the back of my shirt itches.
My skirt has static cling, because I stopped shaving my legs.
I’m almost done with the book I like, and I loathe to read the one I have lined up.
Dun du-duh da dun. Call me Johnny Lee Hooker. (Sonya Lea Hooker?)